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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839137">Plagued By You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismallydamien/pseuds/dismallydamien'>dismallydamien</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy &amp; O'Keefe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>#lgbt #macnamawyer, F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:35:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dismallydamien/pseuds/dismallydamien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>With the death of Veronica's paramour, Jason Dean, she faces the realities of life without him. Through suicide attempts, breakdowns, and nights of blackout drinking, she reaches a point where life feels bearable. Only as she seems to escape, she begins to, quite literally, see him differently. His presence haunts her every move, and just as quickly as she escaped, she is once again enveloped in his puppetry.  Perhaps it is insanity that plagues her,  perhaps it is a spiritual experience- but in any sense, Veronica needs a prince charming to save her. Or, possibly, a princess.</p><p>Trigger warning. This story will display mentions of suicide, violence, blood, light gore, and paranormal experiences. Descretion is advised.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Plagued By You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Veronica plopped down onto the metal bench outside of Ms. Flemming's office. Time for her daily checkup with the administrators. She felt like a damn patient in a psych ward. Every single day, she got called into this damn office, just to listen to Ms. Rainbow polyester skirt ramble about how, "Depression was normal to experience as a teen," And, "Mourning can be really difficult for most of us." It'd been two months since JD's death. She was damn fine. </p><p>Well, fine was a stretch. She was fresh out of the hospital for a suicide attempt. But she was alive. And that's close enough to fine, right?</p><p>She could've chosen to leave that school forever. What would her mom have done, say no? But she didn't. She stayed and bore the glances, and spontaneous hugs and the "Suicide is never the answer..."'s. And why? Well, she didn't fuckin' know.</p><p>It wasn't like she could get away with missing anymore school, anyway. She was a valedictorian in the works, and god knows absences don't look good on records. </p><p>Neither do explosives on men. </p><p>She was deranged, or near it. And she just really needed Ms. Cycedelic Mushrooms to hurry up so she could get to lunch. Maybe see Mickey. Yellow heather. The only Heather that she found to be an enjoyable company.  She twirled her scrunchie around her wrist and tapped her foot against the ceramic tile.</p><p>A weak smile overtook her face at the thought of Heather Mcnamara. Lately, Mickey was the only thing keeping her going. She had been since the incident. Thinking back to the moment on her bathroom floor, where Heather had crushed the 2000 milligrams of Advil under her boot to keep Veronica from drinking them like a breakfast smoothie, she grinned. Mickey had called it returning the favor, But V just called it being a great best friend.</p><p>Not to mention all of the sleepovers with a bottle of tequila. Veronica had scream-sobbed into Heather's pillow, and the girl with the yellow ribbon simply comforted her through it.  Mickey was so relentlessly kind, and beautiful, and-</p><p>"Veronica?" </p><p>Ms. Flemming stepped out into the hall and matched eyes with Veronica. She forced a smile and invited her into the room with the wave of her hand. Something seemed off. She had pearls of tears welling in the corner of her eyes, and running mascara. Veronica chose to ignore it. </p><p>"You know the drill." The older woman sat down at her desk and reached for a clipboard, watching carefully as Veronica sat down onto the couch, which was made of probably the itchiest material that ever existed. </p><p>"Wrists." Veronica rushingly slipped up her sleeves to reveal two arms, with no fresh wounds. "My mood is 10 out of 10 if you disclude the mourning my dead boyfriend." She assured, huffing back in her chair as if the appointment couldn't end soon enough. The teacher gave an unimpressed blink, then leaned back in her chair. </p><p>She was making that face again.</p><p>"Oh god, don't-"</p><p>Veronica was cut off by a soft sob, followed by a shaky voice managing out, "I just need you to know that you can always come to me if-"</p><p>"If I'm feeling in the mood to hang myself?" Veronica rolled her eyes. The repetition was nauseating. Flemming could at least spice it up a little, keep a girl entertained. Save the emotions for the courthouse on the day of your divorce, Lady, she just wants to split a cookie with her best friend.</p><p>"Right...If you're feeling.." Ms. Flemming drifted off and wiped her tears. That lady had more mood swings than a deranged toddler.  </p><p>"My door is always open, Veronica. And times like these can be really tough, but.."</p><p>The (practically fossilized) woman reached her hand across the desk and wrapped it around Veronica's clenched fist.</p><p>"I know you can get through it."</p><p>Veronica nodded, rushing out of the office before another word could get out of Ms. Flemming's wrinkled lips, and-</p><p>"Ex-boyfriend." She called after Veronica, assertively. </p><p>"What?" Veronica gently replied.</p><p>"You called him your boyfriend."</p><p>-----</p><p>The rest of the school day was a blur. Veronica felt numb as she walked through the halls. Numb as she took her tests, as she finished homework commissioning, in every interaction. But one person always managed to make her feel better, always stuck a smile to her face. Mickey! And now Veronica would drive her home, along with Heather Duke, and she would feel alive for a bit.</p><p>She threaded her fingers into the underside of her high pony, pulling out the ribbon bonding it to her head, and lying it in her lap. She'd gone back to the blue. Had decided that she wasn't the type for a god complex. And not the type for blazers or plaid skirts either.</p><p>She held the satin material between her fingertips, rubbing her thumb over the months of dried on hairspray, thinking back to when the world was her kingdom, and the ribbon her crown.  Memories. Albeit, more bad than good, but nonetheless, memories.</p><p>It wasn't long before Heather Mcnamara came running out the building, holding her cheer uniform and her sneakers, rocketing towards Veronica with that gorgeous fucking smile. That golden grin that lit up her face like a tea light in a lantern. Veronica grinned back, standing from her place on the concrete.</p><p>"Blue!" Mcnamara shouted, soon joining Veronica at the hip and wrapping her arms around Veronica. </p><p>"Mickey!" Veronica mimicked the blonde's cheerful tone, euphoria bubbling her chest in the form of that classic giggle. </p><p>"I have so much to tell you, you are not going to believe what happened today!" Mickey snickered, seeming almost too ready to tell Veronica about her day, that she was stumbling over her own words. Moments after Heather M, Heather Duke strutted out of the doors, a leather bag dangling at her side, her shoulders broad and outstretched.</p><p>"Move it, Lesbos, I'm trying to make it home before the golden hour." The green-suited bitch slapped on a pair of designer sunglasses and headed towards the black honda Integra with the bumper dangling off.  Veronica rolled her eyes, letting the Heather at her hip ramble about her day, entertaining with occasional "NO way!"'s. </p><p>The trio sped down the streets haphazardly towards the local seven-eleven, and when they arrived, Heather was almost finished catching Veronica up with her day.</p><p>"No. Way. He really said that?" Veronica colored her face as shocked, her eyebrows knitted together with false disbelief. "Way! He really did!" Heather's jaw went slack as she told her own story, showing her astonishment.</p><p>"Ronica, can you get me three sugar-free licorices?" Heather Duke clawed kindly after Veronica, her voice changed to gentleness now that she would benefit from it. Veronica gave a gentle grin and nodded. "Cherry or black?" She asked, and Duke, dumbfounded, shot back with, "Cherry!"</p><p>Grabbing two cherry slushies, and three cherry licorices, (which were the kind with sugar, don't tell heather but v's gotta look out for her.) Veronica called for Heather to ensure she had gotten everything she needed.</p><p>"Did you find everything okay?" An employee called from behind her, and Veronica whipped around to say yes when the realization struck. Her face went pale, the cups falling to the ground. Who stood there, drinking a slushie nonchalantly?</p><p>Jason Dean.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i hope anyone reading this is doin well, n ill try and update soon!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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